Tips to the Top: Taking a Bicing up Tibidabo
11 October, 2008

I've finally hit on a form of exercise that I don't worm out on: I take a bicing bike to the top of Tibidabo every weekend. I've been doing it long enough now that I don't walk funny the next day, so I'd like to offer some advice to others who would like to give it a try.

Bring a watch, your bicing card and ten euros, then go get your bike. With bicing, you never know what you'll get stuck with, but remember, you're doing this for exercise, so if the gears don't work or something happens to be scraping against the wheels, you're in luck. It's an exercise windfall! If, however, the bike is altogether unrideable, you'll have to wait a while as most bicing riders know: if you put #7 back in the slot and flash your card again, guess what number will flash on the screen again (rather than signalling to the bicing people that #7 could use a tune-up.)

OK, now you've got your bike and you're set to go. Look at your watch. You have two hours to ride. If you're over the limit, the machine warns you of your uncivic behavior. Three times over the limit and it's back to buses for you.

It's a rough climb for those like me for whom joining a gym forever remains in the planning stages. My mental strategy is to use the divide-and-conquer technique, and fill the trip with little accomplishments -- I think the pros call it stages. The first stage is to cross Ronda de Dalt. The second stage is up to the funicular. (And if a Tramvia Blau passes, stop grimacing long enough to flash the tourists a serene smile.) The third stage is up to the Carretera de las Aigues, where all the fofos park their cars and begin their sedate exercise. Take Aigues around the first bend and drink some water at the fountain and have a stretch. (While stretching, you can muse about the chances of the Ayuntamiento putting a rack of bicing dirt bikes at les Aigues, or you can muse about a future Barcelona without any cars . . . ). Back on your bike, you ride back around the bend and take that uphill road to begin the fourth stage. Take it nice and easy -- it begins painfully steep. Right about where the dirt road changes to paved road, the endorphins kick in and the world starts to look really beautiful. On a sidenote: if you were to go down the paved road, it would take you to a guard who doesn't like you. There's some secret Hall of Justice there, and they don't want you to stay long enough to catch a glimpse of the Wondertwins.

The fourth stage just keeps going and going -- if it gets you down, belt out the old war tune: "It's a long way to Tibidabo, it's a long way to gooooooo". If you're lucky, you'll get to pass someone. That'll give you animo. Luckier still and you'll pass a guy dressed up like Indurain -- more animo still, though most likely the Indurains will all pass you, with serene smiles on their faces. Eventually you'll approach the people parking for Tibidabo. Yes, you're being noticed: you appreciate the murmurs of "tiene merito" a bit more than the 18-year-olds laughing at you. Fortunately, the bicing bike comes equipped with a ray gun. "B-r-r-ring, r-r-ring": the 18-year-olds are obliterated in a cloud of blue smoke.

Congrats! You've made it! Stop in at the cafe and have an Aquarius and a croissant. Cyclists get a special price. You're feeling exhilarated right now, but no dawdling or praying in the church. It took you an hour and ten minutes to get up and it'll take 30 minutes to get down. That leaves you 20 minutes to eat your croissant. And remember: bicing is not to be used for recreational purposes, so no having fun. You're there for one reason and one reason only: to deliver a message to the clowns at the amusement park to stop scaring the children.

Croissant eaten and message delivered, it's time to return. So put on your helmet. (You bought a helmet, didn't you? 14 euros at Decathlon.) As you fly down the hill at breakneck speeds, you think to yourself: this is why cycling beats the pants off jogging -- you get a reward at the end of your labors. As you tail the car in front of you, you suddenly remember you have two small children, so you begin to use the squeaky breaks. After the final flight down Muntaner, you lock your bike back in position and check your time: ten minutes to spare! Jolines, you coulda had a donut up there too!